


Artifice

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Onmyouji | The Yin-Yang Master (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Grand Counsellor’s new painted screen is said to have been created by magic. One should never trust magic. Or art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artifice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lebateleur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lebateleur/gifts).



Seimei’s veranda was perfectly placed to take advantage of the afternoon sunshine. Hiromasa reclined on one elbow and enjoyed the warmth of the day. Familiar scents filled the air—the roses in the garden, the faded smell of muku leaves used to polish the floorboards, and the Plum Blossom incense with which Seimei perfumed his clothes. It was quite the wrong season to use the Plum Blossom scent, but Seimei had never claimed to be fashionable in such matters, and Hiromasa had long ago given up trying to educate him.

Mitsumushi drifted by in her butterfly form, her blue swallowtail wings flashing jewel-bright. Hiromasa watched as she flitted to and fro, admiring her grace as she danced from one flower to the next. The scene was so charming, the company so congenial, the silence so soporific, that Hiromasa almost forgot the purpose of his visit.

The splash of wine in his cup roused him, and he shifted slightly, turning to smile his thanks when Seimei slid the drink towards him.

“You seem deep in thought,” Seimei remarked.

“My thoughts are never deep.” Hiromasa sat up and drained the wine-cup in one long, appreciative gulp. “Have you seen the Grand Counsellor’s new painted screen?”

Seimei gave him a droll look. “I have not been to the palace in two weeks.”

“But you must have heard about it, at least,” Hiromasa said. “Everyone declares it to be a masterpiece of artistic skill to rival or surpass anything seen before.”

Seimei took a sip of wine. “Indeed.”

“Yes, indeed!” Hiromasa leaned over and selected a piece of grilled fish from a plate of snacks. “Are you not curious, Seimei? Don’t you want to see this amazing screen for yourself?”

“Not really.”

Hiromasa refused to be disconcerted by Seimei’s lack of interest. “Everyone at court says it is quite the most wonderful thing they’ve ever seen.”

“Most people at court are fools.” Seimei put down his wine-cup and gazed out at the garden. “Do not be deceived by artifice, Hiromasa.”

Hiromasa huffed. “We were talking of art, not artifice.”

“There is little difference.” Seimei closed his eyes and leaned back, a half smile curving his lips as he basked in the heat of the sun.

Hiromasa grumbled to himself and poured another cup of wine.

“No doubt you have friends and acquaintances who would share your delight in this marvel,” Seimei said without opening his eyes. “You are of sufficient rank and breeding to call on His Excellency at any time. I’m sure he’d be only too delighted to show off his screen.”

“That’s not the point,” Hiromasa said. “I want to go with you.”

Seimei chuckled low in his throat. “I fear I lack a proper appreciation of art.”

“I could tell you in advance what to say.”

“Dear me.” Seimei opened his eyes and gave Hiromasa a gleaming look. “This screen must be quite something. Why do you want me to accompany you?”

Hiromasa glanced around and lowered his voice. “They say the screen was created by magic.”

Seimei raised his eyebrows. “Magic? Well, now.”

Hiromasa waited for a heartbeat. “So will you come and view it with me?”

“You, my dear Hiromasa, are quite the troublesome fellow,” Seimei said. “When shall we leave?”

* * *

“Truly the Grand Counsellor’s screen must be a work of staggering genius to attract so many sightseers.” Seimei leaned against a pillar of the covered walkway and examined the folds of his red and cream patterned fan. On the other side of the white-gravelled courtyard, a flock of courtiers of all ranks congregated outside the Grand Counsellor’s palace rooms. Flicking open the fan, Seimei wafted it a few times in an extravagant gesture. “Or is it that all these people have nothing better to do with their time?”

Hiromasa knew he was being baited, but still he rose to it. “By all accounts, the screen is an incredible sight that deeply affects those who see it. Little wonder that some people wish to view it again and again.” He longed to dash across the courtyard and see the astonishing sight for himself, but Seimei would insist on dawdling, and having persuaded his friend to accompany him this far, Hiromasa wasn’t about to view the screen on his own.

“I doubt there’s anything magical about it,” Seimei said, as if he could read Hiromasa’s mind. Possibly he _could_ read Hiromasa’s mind, which was always a slightly worrying idea. “I don’t think you’d be in any danger.”

Hiromasa gave him a narrow-eyed glare. “We are going to see this painting together. And it’s not that I’m scared of it. Not at all. I’m just... curious. And I wish to broaden your experience of art.”

Seimei chuckled.

Hiromasa ignored him. Perhaps he _was_ a little nervous at the prospect of viewing a screen allegedly created by magical means, but that was only to be expected. Anyone who’d lived through the same kind of experiences he had—assisting in exorcisms, battling demons, journeying to Ama no Iwato, plus whatever had happened during that business involving Doson and Lady Aone, a subject upon which Seimei remained irritatingly vague—any _normal_ person with these same experiences would, quite naturally, exhibit a certain wariness towards magical painted screens.

A cluster of people emerged from the Grand Counsellor’s rooms, expressions of wonder on their faces. A captain stood on the steps and invited in the next group of nobles, while those still waiting outside surrounded the men who’d just left and flung excited questions at them.

Hiromasa waved at one of the men. “There’s Commissioner Motomi. He told me he’s viewed the screen nine times already. Seems like he can’t keep away.”

Motomi broke free of the group and shambled towards them, his boots raising puffs of dust from the gravel. He bowed as he approached. “My dear Lord Hiromasa! And Lord Seimei, how nice to see you at the palace. You must be here to see His Excellency’s screen. Oh, it is a miracle, my lords! I have never seen anything so perfect. The detail! The colours! So lifelike! But little wonder, since the artist took real, live animals from the woodland and birds from the trees and the sky, and through the use of magic, reduced them to mere images on the screen. It is amazing, I tell you! You will be all agog when you set eyes upon it!”

“I’m sure,” Hiromasa said, feeling intimidated. Now his fear was not that the painting contained magical powers, but that he would find it ugly.

Commissioner Motomi clasped his hands together. “Oh! And I must tell you this fresh piece of news, my lords—His Excellency is so delighted with the work, so impressed by the quality of the magic expended upon it, that he’s recommended Chosun to a position within the Bureau of Divination.”

“How incredible!” Hiromasa turned. “Seimei, did you hear that? You will soon have a new colleague. I hope you will be kind to him.”

Seimei’s polite smile didn’t waver. He ignored Hiromasa and kept his gaze fixed on Motomi. “Chosun, you said?”

Motomi nodded. “He’s the artist who painted the screen. A recluse, by all accounts. The Grand Counsellor discovered him only recently. No one knows where he hails from. I met him myself just yesterday and had a few words with him—his speech is not of the capital. No doubt he’s a provincial. Not that there’s anything wrong with that; I mean, it hardly matters when one is of the artisan class...”

Seimei closed his fan with a snap. “I knew a man named Chosun once. He lived in Mino.”

“Oh?” Motomi glanced at Hiromasa, who directed a questioning look at Seimei. “Was he an artist?”

A flicker of unease, or perhaps some other emotion, crossed Seimei’s face. “No.” He hesitated, then nodded to Motomi and set off across the courtyard towards the Grand Counsellor’s rooms. Bidding a hasty goodbye to Motomi, Hiromasa followed. When he caught up with Seimei, he leaned close. “The Chosun you knew—what was he, if not an artist?”

Seimei gave him a mild look. “A demon.”

Hiromasa stopped in his tracks. “What?” He realised that his voice had risen and people were staring at him. Pulling himself together, he hurried after Seimei again and took his arm. “A demon? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Seimei’s attitude was infuriatingly calm. “Chosun was a mountain priest, a holy man who lived alone except for his beloved servant boy. One day the boy vanished without trace. Anxious for the boy’s safety, Chosun spent every waking hour searching the forest and the hillside. He feared that the boy had been attacked by wild animals or carried off by brigands, or maybe the boy had fallen and injured himself and was dying somewhere alone and terrified.

“Every night, Chosun returned to his hut and lay down and wept. His fear and loneliness grew so much that he neglected his spiritual duties. He neglected himself. All his energy went on his search for the boy.” Seimei paused, slowing his footsteps as they neared the crowd outside the Grand Counsellor’s rooms.

“Finally, when everything else had failed, he turned to magic,” Seimei continued, his voice soft and low. “He called upon the spirits inhabiting the trees and rocks around him, and from them he learned that the boy was alive and well and far beyond his reach. The boy, who was very pretty, had met a nobleman out hunting, and the nobleman had offered him a comfortable life in the capital if the boy would consent to becoming his lover. The boy said yes.”

Hiromasa spluttered. “The ungrateful wretch!”

Seimei smiled. “Indeed. Well, the story is familiar from there. Chosun’s love turned to hate, and a demon crawled into his heart. On my way to the monastery at Tarui, I happened to encounter Chosun and drove the demon from him. Chosun returned to his hut in the forest swearing to continue on his spiritual path alone. What became of him later, I do not know.”

Hiromasa swallowed. “Do you think this artist is the same Chosun? But how could that be possible? Perhaps the demon revived within his heart. Seimei! Can that happen?”

Seimei considered. “No, but a new demon may take up residence in a willing vessel.”

“Then if Chosun is a demon again, perhaps he has come to take revenge on the nobleman who stole away his boy.” Hiromasa grabbed at Seimei’s shoulder as a thought struck him. “Seimei! What if it’s the Grand Counsellor? What if His Excellency was the nobleman who seduced the boy? What if he’s in danger? What if we’re all in danger? What if...”

Seimei silenced him with a frown. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Hiromasa grabbed Seimei’s hand and hauled him through the crowd, past the startled captain at the door, and into the Grand Counsellor’s rooms. A small group of nobles stood making appreciative noises. The Grand Counsellor strutted back and forth by the screen, his chest swelling with pride at each new compliment.

One of the courtiers moved, and Hiromasa finally saw the screen. His breath caught; he stared. Beside him, Seimei went still. The six-panel screen was truly a thing of wonder, a glorious detailed landscape populated with pheasants amongst the grass, mandarin ducks floating on a stream, geese flying across the sky, a stag crying to its mate in an autumn forest, a cat stalking a mouse, and a fox creeping to its den.

“It’s beautiful,” Hiromasa whispered. “Absolutely exquisite.” He’d never seen anything like it before. The skill was beyond compare. He could believe that the artist had truly used magic in the screen’s creation.

The thought recalled him to his task, and he dragged his gaze from the screen to face the Grand Counsellor. “Where’s Chosun?”

The Grand Counsellor looked startled at such a rude enquiry. “Chosun is—he’s...” He gestured vaguely, then blinked, his gaze scanning the room. His brows furrowed. “I can’t see him. How peculiar! He was here a moment ago.”

Hiromasa threw a look at Seimei, then turned back to the Grand Counsellor. “Your Excellency—”

“Wait.” Seimei raised a hand, then went forwards and crouched in front of the screen. He examined it for some moments, peering closely at each of the figures, then ran his fingers over the painting and tapped lightly against the wood.

“Magnificent, is it not?” the Grand Counsellor asked, mistaking Seimei’s scrutiny for admiration. “The animals and birds are so lifelike because they’re real. Yes, real, living creatures taken from nature and placed in a painting through the agency of magic!”

Hiromasa frowned. Motomi had said the same thing, but he hadn’t paid him much attention. To hear the Grand Counsellor enthusing about it, though... Hiromasa shook his head. “But Your Excellency, that’s cruel.”

“How so?” The Grand Counsellor looked puzzled. “All living things die, but art is immortal. By placing living creatures in my screen, their dignity and grace can be admired not just by my family and friends, but by my descendents for innumerable generations to come! Chosun’s magic has elevated these creatures into more than mere beasts of the field and air. They have become true art.”

“But,” Hiromasa argued, perturbed, “the fact that life is fleeting is what makes it beautiful. Trapping these poor animals in a painting to make them immortal... It seems wrong.”

The Grand Counsellor sighed. “Lord Hiromasa, I’m disappointed. You are known as a man of taste and discernment, aside from your somewhat eccentric choice of companion, and I thought you of all people would appreciate—”

“Wait,” Seimei said again, silencing them both. He stood and took a step back, the train of his hunting costume whispering across the floor. He raised his arms, fingers spread wide, then brought them together, twisting his hands into arcane shapes as he murmured something low and rapid and commanding.

Hiromasa and the Grand Counsellor started back in surprise when the figures in the painting started to move. The birds flapped their wings; the cat swished its tail; the stag lifted its head. The mouse squirmed as if struggling to free itself of the image. A moment later, the fox leapt from the screen and materialised in the air in front of them.

The Grand Counsellor let out a cry. Hiromasa echoed him, and their exclamations were taken up by the little crowd behind them. As one, the courtiers retreated then drew forwards again, their astonishment palpable as creature by creature, the birds and animals jumped and flew out of the painted screen. They hurtled from image into reality, only to lose their forms. Within the space of a heartbeat, every animal and bird became nothing more than lines in the air, brief descriptions of familiar shapes, and then they fell to the floor, spattering blobs of coloured ink far and wide.

A horrified silence blanketed the room. Hiromasa looked at the screen, empty now of everything but the lovingly rendered landscape. He put a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Ah, Seimei?”

Seimei exhaled as he turned to face them. “There was no magic. Just ink. The creatures never lived except in the artist’s imagination.”

The Grand Counsellor stared slack-jawed at the empty landscape. “No magic?”

“None at all.” Seimei waved a hand. “Just an exceptional talent for art. At least, it _was_ exceptional. Now it looks rather dull, but—”

A broken wail interrupted Seimei’s speech. “My painting! What happened to my painting?” A small, rotund man shoved past the courtiers. Dressed in the blue garments of a commoner and with unkempt hair, Chosun dropped to his knees in front of the screen. He moaned in distress, touching the empty screen then dabbling his fingers through the ink blots on the floor. “No! My painting, my beautiful painting...”

Hiromasa leaned towards Seimei. “Is that...”

“It’s not the same man,” Seimei murmured. “He’s not a demon. Just a man who wanted to impress a potential patron.” To the Grand Counsellor he added, “If you can overlook Chosun’s false claims to magic, you’ll find that he’s really a very good artist.”

“That’s not the point,” the Grand Counsellor declared, ignoring Chosun’s miserable presence entirely. “It’s always annoying to have one’s illusions shattered. One can’t help but feel aggrieved with the artist. Why did he have to deceive us?”

Hiromasa groped for an answer. “Perhaps Chosun was trying to be humble, passing off his talent as the product of magic rather than dedicated hard work.”

“That’s ridiculous.” The Grand Counsellor was angry now, angry and embarrassed. “By claiming his painting was created with magic, Chosun was drawing attention to himself, not deflecting it. Well, I want nothing more to do with this—nothing more, you hear me? Someone clean up this mess immediately.”

And with that, the Grand Counsellor turned and swept out of the room, the courtiers trailing after him, all a-babble with what they’d seen.

Seimei and Hiromasa remained behind, looking down at Chosun, who still knelt disconsolate by the screen.

Hiromasa sighed. “So it wasn’t even the same Chosun you once knew. No magic, no demon, no danger.”

“That’s the thing with art,” Seimei said. “You always see what you want to see, and it’s never necessarily the truth.” He went over to Chosun and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Come now, my friend, don’t be too distressed. I can restore your screen to its full glory just as soon as you stop kneeling in the ink.”

Chosun glanced up, his expression hopeful. “You can?”

Hiromasa folded his arms. “Seimei...”

“Of course I can.” Seimei smiled, directed a twinkling look at Hiromasa, then said to Chosun, “And may I suggest that in future, Lord Hiromasa would make a much kinder patron. You see, he loves art for art’s sake.”

“Oh, Seimei.” Hiromasa shook his head, but couldn’t stop his laughter. “You really are incorrigible.”


End file.
